Sins of the Past
by Teprac S
Summary: A bounty hunter comes for Vin. Rating is for possible course language. This story was written before we knew anything about EJ. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

SINS OF THE PAST

by Jessie Syring and Jennye Jackman

Only a handful of people were in Murphy's Saloon, minding their own business while quietly relaxing, so no one paid much attention to the three strangers who came in. They paused in the doorway, letting their eyes adjust to the dim light while surveying the room.

In a corner near the bar, a black-dressed man seemed only interested in the whiskey on the table in front of him, his head tilted forward as he stared at the shot glass. Standing alone near the center of the bar, a long-haired man in a ragged gray jacket and high-crowned hat was nursing his own glass of whiskey. The balding, mustached bartender stood a few feet from him, polishing glasses with a mostly clean rag. Two cowboys were playing low stakes poker with a man who, judging by his red jacket and frilly white shirt, considered himself a professional gambler. A clean-shaven man in well-fitting cowboy clothes sat by himself at another table, slowly working his way through a bottle of whiskey.

The three newcomers walked to the bar. Vin Tanner glanced to his left as one of the men took a position only a few feet away, aware the other two had moved in on his right. The first man ordered whiskey and downed it in one swift motion, then turned.

"You Vin Tanner?" he asked.

Tanner looked at the man. The newcomer was ugly, his homely features marred by a jagged scar running down his left cheek into an unkempt beard. His clothing reeked of too much time on the trail without washing. Tanner glanced to his right at the two men standing attentively there.

"Who's asking?" he wanted to know, picking up his drink and casually finishing it.

A smile of crooked, tobacco-stained teeth spread across the scarred man's face. "I reckon you are." He unfolded a piece of paper. "And so' does this here poster."

There was no mistaking the likeness on the wanted poster.

Tanner turned from the bar but froze as he felt the barrel of a gun poke him in the back. All activity at the poker table stopped as the participants watched. Ezra Standish folded his cards and glanced to the dark corner.

Chris Larabee raised his head and sat up straight. His blue eyes briefly touched Tanner, then Ezra. He pushed his chair back and quietly got to his feet.

The scarred man reached over and relieved Tanner of the sawed-off Winchester he favored in place of a revolver. As he began a thorough pat-down in search of other weapons, a cynical half-smile crossed Tanner's lips.

"If you're gonna get personal, maybe we should move this to a room at the hotel," he suggested.

The scarred man punched him in the stomach; a short and hard punch. Tanner doubled over with a groan. Larabee took advantage of the painful distraction to move toward the bounty hunter.

"I see nothing's changed in the four days I've been away. Game's over, friends," Ezra said quietly to the two cowboys. He stood up as well.

The scarred man grabbed Tanner by the front of his jacket and dragged him upright, smiling evilly. "It's along ways back to Texas, Tanner, and you don't have to be alive."

"Three to one," Larabee observed in his soft-spoken manner. "Hardly seems fair."

The man barely spared him a glance. "This is none of your business, cowboy. Stay out of it."

"Don't think I can do that."

The scarred man turned around. "You gonna try and stop us? There's three of us and only one of you."

Larabee smiled around his cigar. "Your friends won't be much help, standing behind you like that."

All three men fidgeted nervously as they realized this fact. The scarred man said, "This man's a killer, wanted in Texas."

"This, my friend, is hardly Texas," drawled Ezra from behind and to one side of the other two bounty hunters.

"Let him go," said Larabee.

The scarred man rubbed his jaw. "Maybe you got a point," he said slowly.

Then he grabbed for his pistol. Larabee drew his own Colt. Tanner plowed into the scarred man from behind, knocking his aim off and taking himself away from the pistol at his back. Ezra drew his own revolver as the remaining patrons scattered.

In spite of Tanner's interference, the bounty hunter's first shot whined only inches from Larabee's head. The gunslinger flinched away and fired at one of the men who had been behind Tanner. The man staggered but didn't fall and didn't drop his gun.

Ezra spun away from the two shots the third bounty hunter fired at him. His return shot hit the back wall as the bounty hunter scrambled for cover. Ezra took the scant cover offered by a support beam.

Larabee reached the struggling forms of Tanner and the scarred man. The bounty hunter outweighed the former buffalo hunter by at least fifty pounds, but Tanner was wiry and strong. Though pinned by the bounty hunter, Vin managed to keep the gun twisted away from him, nearly breaking the man's trigger finger in the process. Larabee grabbed the bounty hunter by the collar and dragged him back.

Something heavy smashed into Larabee's shoulders, staggering him. He twisted around, forgetting the scarred bounty hunter as he faced the new threat. He had a brief glimpse of a clean shaven face before a rifle butt slammed into the side of his head, and he crumpled to the floor.

Tanner had managed to wrench free the bounty hunter's pistol and was tracking the man Larabee had wounded when a bullet splintered the floor near his leg. He turned and saw the neatly, dressed cowboy standing over Larabee, rifle pressed to his temple.

"Drop it, Mr. Tanner," he ordered, "or I'll put a bullet in this hero's head."

Tanner held his empty hand up and pointed the revolver at the ceiling. "Just take it easy," he said. He eased the hammer down, then set the revolver on the floor and pushed it away.

"You, too, gambling man."

Ezra's revolver joined Tanner's on the floor, then he raised his hands to shoulder level. The scarred bounty hunter got to his feet and retrieved his pistol.

"I can't trust you to do anything right, can I Jake?" asked the neatly-dressed man. "You were supposed to stay out of town until I contacted you in another two or three days. Hank, see to Mr. Tanner's discomfort and tie him tight"

The uninjured bounty hunter took a rawhide thong from his belt and moved to Tanner. As Hank bound Tanner's hands behind him and pulled him to his feet, the leader looked at the wounded man. The man was pale, his left sleeve soaked with blood.

"How bad is it?"

"The bastard broke my arm," the man gasped through clenched teeth.

The leader took a step toward Ezra. "There a doctor in this town?"

"There is," admitted the Southerner, "but I'm afraid he's a friend of Mr. Tanner's."

"And probably on his way here with whatever other friends Tanner has." The leader turned suddenly, and pressed the rifle barrel against the base of Larabee's skull. "Move your hand another inch, Mr. Larabee, and I will kill you." He kicked the ivory-handled revolver out of reach. "Get up. Very slowly."

Larabee pushed himself to his hands and knees, rubbing the side of his head. Hatred burned in his eyes as he got shakily to his feet.

"How'd you find me?" asked Tanner.

"Read a newspaper story about how you and Mr. Larabee killed twenty men bent on stringing up an innocent man. Move over by the door, Mr. Larabee. You too, gambler. Hank, stay with him. Jake, you keep an eye on Tanner."

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The first shot had brought Buck Wilmington and J.D. Dunne at a run from the jail. Nathan Jackson and Josiah Sanchez had arrived before the sound of the last shot rolled away. The four men took cover across the street in front of the hotel, watching the doors and windows of the saloon. No one emerged.

"What's going on?" asked Nathan.

"Don't ask me," Buck said sourly. "I just got here."

"Mr. Jackson! Mr. Wilmington! Over here!"

Buck recognized the pale face peering cautiously around the comer to his left as Mary Travis. She beckoned for the four men to join her. Keeping low, they left cover and hurried around the corner. The town undertaker, Virgil Watson from the hardware store, and the bartender were standing with Mary between the buildings.

'What happened in there?" Buck asked the saloon keeper.

"Three bounty hunters came after Tanner. Larabee tried to stop 'em, and all hell broke loose." The man gestured toward the saloon. "I didn't hang around to find out what happened. I came out the back."

Mary pushed a stray lock of blonde hair back from her face. "What are you going to do?" she asked Buck.

"Try and keep them from leaving," Buck declared. "Nathan, you and J.D. get around back of the saloon. Get around where you can get in if you have to."

The black gentleman and the youngster took off. They skirted around the back of the hotel and headed past the post office before crossing to the same side of the street as the saloon.

Buck found himself missing Tanner's sharp shooting abilities as he looked at Josiah. "Do you think you and your rifle would do any good up on the balcony?"

The big man looked toward the hotel balcony and hefted his Winchester. "Yep."

He headed for the stairs leading to the second floor. Buck watched him go, then became aware that Mary was watching him, her hands on her hips.

"Just why are bounty hunters after Mr. Tanner?" she asked, her voice cool and suspicious.

Buck's thick mustache spread as he grinned. "You're going to have to ask him that," he said, tipping his hat. "Excuse me."

Before he could move back to his position, he heard Ezra calling his name. He jogged around the comer and took a position behind some crates. No one had come out of the saloon yet, but he could see vague shadows past the doorway.

"Buck," Ezra called again, "if you're out there, hold your fire. We're coming out."

Ezra emerged first, keeping hands at shoulder level. A tall, lean man followed closely, warily eying the apparently deserted street. Tanner came next, a bearded man directly behind him. Another stranger, this one with a blood-soaked shirt, came out next. Larabee emerged, not bothering to raise his hands. He paused in the doorway to light a fresh cigar, then stepped to one side. The leader of the bounty hunters brought up the rear.

J.D. peered around the corner of the saloon. He knew Nathan was waiting on the other side of the building, and he could see Josiah on the hotel balcony. He started to bring up his guns. Mentally he had a quick vision of Buck slapping him alongside the head and yelling at him the youngster lowered the pistols and waited.

"We're riding out of here," declared the neatly-dressed bounty hunter. "We're taking Mr. Tanner and the gambler with us. If nobody follows, we'll send the gambler home." He gave Larabee a half-smile. "You're just too dangerous to bring along. Go make yourself comfortable on the steps and don't move."

Larabee sat on the top step near a support post. He glanced at a brass spittoon only a few inches from his left knee. He looked up and locked eyes with Tanner and Ezra for a brief moment, then nodded almost imperceptibly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

The wounded man mounted first, then Ezra climbed aboard the horse he was directed to. The scarred man boosted Tanner into the saddle. Maintaining a grip on Tanner's reins, he got on his own horse. The leader retreated to his own milling horse while the lean bounty hunter lifted his foot toward the stirrup.

Ezra twitched his right arm and felt his Derringer sleeve gun slide comfortably into his palm. He pointed at the wounded man and pulled the trigger. At such close range, the .45-caliber bullet drove the bounty hunter off his horse. Ezra then slid off the right side of the borrowed horse, putting its bulk between himself and the other bounty hunters.

When Ezra made his first move, Larabee grabbed the spittoon and hurled it at the leader. The missile struck his rifle instead, knocking it out of his hands. The man swore as dark, thick, smelly liquid splattered across his face and chest and burned his eyes. He fumbled for his pistol, and Larabee rolled off the steps as a wild shot ricocheted off the brick wall behind him.

Tanner swung his right leg over the horse's neck and slid off its back just after Ezra fired his shot. He ran for cover, hunching over to make himself as small a target as possible. Fighting his panicking horse, the scarred man fired a shot at him. Tanner slipped and fell to one knee, and the bullet went high.

Nathan emerged from cover, firing at the bounty hunters as he helped Tanner to his feet. He gave him a helpful push in the direction of the corner and followed. A shot from Josiah's rifle knocked the scarred man to the ground.

The lean man was struggling to control his own horse and shoot at the same time. The leader, blinking back tears, had caught the reins of a horse before it could flee in panic and was trying to mount.

Larabee heard a shrill whistle and turned toward the sound. J.D. was standing a dozen feet away. He held up one of his revolvers, then tossed it underhand. Larabee caught it, turned, and fired. The bearded bounty hunter had staggered to his feet and was shooting wildly. Larabee's round caught him in the chest only a moment before bullets from Buck and Josiah struck him.

"Thanks," said Tanner as Nathan cut the rawhide thong holding his wrists.

"Don't mention it. Here." Nathan grabbed his rifle from where it leaned against the wall and held it out. "Figured you could use this."

The lean bounty hunter was trying to get a bead-on Ezra. Reduced to only one bullet in his Derringer, Ezra didn't dare fire wildly. The borrowed horse kept trying to escape his hold on the reins, rearing and whinnying, and its actions kept the lean bounty hunter from getting a clear shot.

"Let's get out of here!" yelled the leader, finally getting settled on his horse.

The seven companions concentrated their attention on the two remaining riders. A shot from Tanner's rifle dropped the lean man as the leader got his horse under control and rode hard from the town.

Larabee stepped out from cover and looked around. J.D. looked a little green around the edges. The gunslinger called his name, and he held out the borrowed gun. "Thanks for the loan."

J.D. mutely took the weapon back and holstered it as Larabee headed into the saloon to retrieve his own weapon and resume his drinking. Nathan was checking the downed bounty hunters, seeing if he could do anything for them. Ezra straightened his clothing and dusted himself off.

Buck strolled over, followed by Josiah. "Never gets any easier, does it?" observed the dark-haired man.

"'Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord,'" quoted Josiah. Then he smiled. "But we are righteous."

Nathan straightened, a look of distaste on his face. "Help me get these men over to the undertaker."

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Larabee stared at the contents of his shot glass, not really seeing the amber-colored liquid there. Movement caught his eye and he looked up. Mary Travis was standing across the table from him, a disapproving look on her face.

"Didn't think I'd ever see you in here," he observed, looking into his glass again.

"I wanted to talk to you and you wouldn't come see me."

"I didn't see much reason to."

Mary put her hands on her hips. "I'm here to ask you and your... friends to leave town," she said.

Larabee leaned back in his chair and looked at her, his expression unchanged. Mary set her jaw firmly, resolved to go on with what she had to say.

"I know my father-in-law hired you to keep the peace when he's gone. But he doesn't know what this town is like. What it was like. Four Corners was a quiet town once." The next words came out in a rush. "We've had more violence since you moved here than we had in the previous two months. What happened here today is because people like you are living here."

"No, ma'am. That had nothing to do with it."

Though quietly spoken, those words held a hard edge that caused her to stiffen. The blue eyes staring at her held no warmth. "What caused it then, Mr. Larabee?" she asked with forced lightness.

"You did, ma'am."

"I did?" Mary couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. "What do you mean?"

"Those men came here today because they read your story about me and Vin saving Nathan from those drunken cowboys some weeks back. If you'd minded your own business, this never would have happened."

"Is what they said true? Is Mr. Tanner a fugitive?"

"That's his business. Not yours." Larabee downed his whiskey and stood up. "Ma'am."

He put on his hat and strode from the saloon. Mary reached the bat-wing doors as he mounted his horse. She watched as he rode out of town..

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Tanner heard the horse approaching. He glanced over his shoulder and recognized the horse and its black clad rider. Larabee left his black gelding tied next to Tanner's brown, then walked up the hill to join him. Tanner sat on a large boulder where he had a clear view of the town and surrounding countryside. The red hues in an increasingly darker sky seemed to hold his attention for now.

"Nice view," observed Larabee, sitting beside him and pushing his hat back to lay on his shoulders. Tanner didn't say anything. "You okay?"

Tanner nodded. "Just hasn't been one of my better days." He was quiet for a long moment again. "I guess my past finally caught up to me."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I dunno yet. Judge Travis has me 'til the end of the month. I've never been one to run out before a job is through."

"I think he'd understand."

"Yeah, but I'd be runnin' out on you boys, too."

Larabee shrugged. "I think they'd understand. Hell, I do." He cocked his head to look at Tanner. "When you do go, let me know. I might just decide to come along."

This time Tanner looked at him. "What the hell for?"

Larabee smiled. "Well, you once told me Tascosa had pretty women. I just might want to see for myself."

Tanner grinned. "I'll keep that in mind." Larabee rose and started back to the horses. "Chris?" Tanner said.

Larabee paused, a black shape among the dark shadows. "Thanks. For everything."

"Sure."

Larabee retrieved his horse and rode back to town. Tanner stayed where he was, enjoying the peace and quiet.

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Buck paused at the door of the restaurant, smiling politely and tipping his hat to an elderly woman and her teenaged daughter as they emerged from the establishment. The girl blushed at the unexpected attention, but her mother "harumphed" and hurried her away. Buck turned away, smiling: the girl was about ten years too young for more than a friendly gesture. He walked into the restaurant and removed his hat.

Nathan, and Josiah were sitting at one table, finishing a breakfast of steak and eggs. J.D. sat by himself looking at a menu. Neither Ezra, Larabee, nor Tanner were present, but Buck wasn't surprised; Larabee and Tanner would have been up since sunrise, and Ezra probably wouldn't be up before noon.

"Morning, all," Buck greeted. Moving to J.D.'s table, he hung his hat and gunbelt from the back of a chair and sat down with a sigh. "What sounds good, kid?"

Before J.D. could answer, a smiling woman in a plain gingham dress brought a cup and placed it in front of J.D. "There you are. Have you decided what you'd like?"

He smiled and handed her the menu. "I'll have pancakes, ham, and two fried eggs. Please."

"Make it two," Buck told the woman. She left, and he turned his attention to the steaming liquid in front of J.D. "Now what's that you're drinking?"

"Hot chocolate."

"Hot chocolate?" Buck snorted. "That's no drink for a man. 'Course, I guess a kid like you wouldn't know that."

J.D.'s ears turned red and he opened his mouth to protest. His words died unsaid, though, as the restaurant door swung open and Larabee walked in. Josiah got to his feet immediately, sensing that something was wrong.

"Trouble, boys," announced Larabee.

The others were instantly on their feet. "What's wrong?" asked Nathan.

"Vin's gone."

Without another word, Larabee turned and strode out of the restaurant. The others followed. J.D. hastily sipped at the hot chocolate, burning his tongue, before Buck grabbed his arm and dragged him along.

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Josiah and Nathan walked to the top of the rocky knob where Larabee stood, the cool wind pressing his black duster against his legs. The fair-haired man glanced back at their approach, but his attention was focused to the east. The expressions on the faces of both men were grim.

"Looks like he was jumped at his horse," said Nathan. "There's signs of a fight down by the tree. And we found this." He held up a brass tube.

Larabee immediately recognized Tanner's spyglass. His shoulders sagged and he lowered his head. "He probably wasn't expecting trouble after I left."

"After yesterday?" snorted Nathan.

"Couldn't know the bounty hunter'd come back," Josiah observed.

"I should have known," said Larabee.

Nathan said, "Anyway, we sent Buck with Ezra and J.D. to buy supplies."

"That's a start." Larabee turned, determination burning in his blue eyes. "Josiah, do you think you can catch that bounty hunter?"

Josiah cocked his head to one side and peered at the sun: it was more than a handspan above the horizon.

"He's got no more'n half a day's head start." He shrugged slightly. "We'll catch him."

"Not us. You and Nathan. I want the two of you to find them and follow them."

"Just... follow them?" Nathan repeated blankly. A faint smile tugged at one corner of Josiah's mouth. "And what are you and the others going to be doing while we're following them?"

"Riding hard for Tascosa."

Larabee started down the hill to the waiting horses.

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Moving awkwardly because of his chained hands, Tanner untied his bandana and soaked part of it in canteen water. His seal brown gelding followed the bounty hunter's ill-tempered pinto, kept close by a rope running from its neck to the pinto's back cinch ring.

Tanner used the wet cloth to carefully wipe dried blood away from the side of his head. He winced as he pressed too hard at the swelling at his right temple. Setting his teeth, he cleaned away the blood and carefully dabbed at the cut over his eye. He still wasn't sure what the bounty hunter had struck him with, but it had knocked him out and opened a two-inch cut.

He laid the bandana across the fork of his saddle and tilted his head back, squinting at the all too bright sun and surrounding countryside. The sun had risen a few hours earlier. They had put plenty of miles behind them since last night, maintaining a grueling pace. At sun-up, on the edge of flatter country, they had paused a short time to let the horses rest.

The flat country discouraged him. There wasn't much cover; if the others were following him, the bounty hunter would be able to see them coming from miles away. They had turned north since entering the flatlands. And Tanner figured the bounty hunter planned on staying in the open country as much as possible.

"Looking for your friends?"

Tanner turned his gaze toward the bounty hunter. "They don't even know I'm missing," he said. "I was supposed to be hunting, wouldn't be back until tomorrow."

"Then what're you looking for?"

Tanner had to admit that the man was observant. "Indians," he lied. "We had some trouble with Apaches a few weeks back. 'Sides, you never know what'll pop up around here." He pulled his feet out of the stirrups, letting his legs' hang free. "I've never been this way. I came from the south, through Purgatorio."

"What is the difference? You'll never see it again."

Tanner winced at the implied threat in those words. They rode in silence for a while, then he asked, "You got a name? I ain't gonna call you 'sir.'"

That turned the bounty hunter in his saddle to glare at him. The man let the remark slide, though. "Name's Elijah James Thompson. My friends call me E.J." Thompson turned forward again. "You can call me Mr. Thompson."

Tanner shrugged; he really didn't care one way or the other. "You done this sort of thing before? Mr. Thompson?" he added sarcastically.

"You're not the first man I've brought in. You might be the last, though."

Tanner snorted. "I ain't worth that much."

"You are to me."

Thompson's tone put an end to the conversation. Tanner arched his back and rotated his shoulders, then relaxed once more and considered the implications of that last statement.

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Josiah and Nathan took a packhorse and set out immediately. By noon, Buck and Larabee had purchased four additional riding horses -- the best available -- while Ezra and J.D. bought cartridges. The four men then gathered at the hitching rails in front of the saloon, saddling their horses and securing their gear. Mary found them there.

"Mrs. Travis," Buck said, tipping his hat in greeting as he moved to his gray horse's off side to secure his saddlebags.

"Mr. Wilmington," she acknowledged. Then she continued past him toward Chris. "Mr. Larabee, I'd like a word with you." He finished tightening his cinch and turned his attention to her. "You're leaving town?"

"Isn't that what you wanted yesterday," he observed quietly..

"What about the work you're doing for my father-in-law?"

Ezra smiled at her as he handed four boxes of cartridges to Larabee. "I believe, Miz Travis, you can consider this our resignation."

Larabee put the boxes into his saddlebag, then took a folded piece of paper out of a pocket and handed it to the woman. "This explains everything," he said, untying his reins from the hitching rail. "See that Judge Travis gets it."

He swung into the saddle and backed the black away from the rail, leading his extra horse. The others were already mounted. Larabee started down the street and didn't look back. The others followed, tipping their hats to Mary as they passed.

Mary watched until they turned a corner and were out of sight. Then she regarded the paper in her hand. She unfolded it and carefully smoothed out the creases. She straightened in surprise as she read the message there.

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With Josiah's uncanny tracking skills, he and Nathan caught up with Tanner and the bounty hunter by late afternoon. They stayed near the edge of the valley where they could see Tanner and his captor as distant specks. Nathan used Tanner's spyglass to monitor them more closely.

"Looks like they're sticking to the middle of the valley," he said. "If we get any closer, there's going to be trouble."

"Yep."

"So how are we going to keep an eye on them?"

"We know where they're going." The priest smiled enigmatically. "We'll find a way."

"I hope you're right, my friend."

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Tanner leaned back against the bole of the tree with a tired sigh. There was just enough slack in the chain that he could walk around a little and enjoy the warmth of the fire, but not enough that he could get into mischief. He made himself as comfortable as he could and closed his eyes.

Elijah James Thompson. He opened his eyes to mere slits and considered his captor. Had they crossed paths in the past? He didn't think they had.

A sharp rock poked uncomfortably into his back. Tanner shifted around and dug it out. It was fist-sized with some nice jagged edges. He looked at the rock, then glanced at Thompson. The bounty hunter was watching him like a hawk. Moonlight reflected off the barrel of his .45. Tanner tossed the rock off to one side.

"Smart boy," said Thompson.

Tanner settled back down. He could have bounced the rock off the bounty hunter's head. Even if the shot had been a good one, though, Thompson's chosen sleeping spot was way out of reach. He was sure that uprooting the tree was out of the question.

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The remaining friends rode hard after leaving Four Comers, stopping only when they and their horses were too tired to go on. After a few hours of sleep in a cold camp, Larabee roused them. "Rise and shine, kiddies," he called, nudging the sleepers with the toe of his boot "We've got miles to cover."

Ezra peeled open one eye. "Good lord," he moaned, "the sun isn't even up yet."

"I'm off to get that up now." Larabee strode toward the horses.

J.D. sat up, pushing back his blankets. "The sun won't be up for at least three more hours."

Ezra stared at him. "And how would you know that?"

"It has to do with the position of the stars. They use the same method on cattle drives." J.D. stood up and looked skyward. "You see those stars? That's--"

"We don't want to hear it, J.D.," Buck stated emphatically, turning his boots upside down to evict anything that might have crawled into them overnight.

Ezra sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and shivering slightly in the chill air. "Has anyone besides myself considered the possibility that our wild riding might be for naught? I mean, if Mr. Tanner and the bounty hunter are riding this hard, they'll reach the railhead several hours before we do."

"What's the matter, Ezra, your butt getting sore?" asked Buck.

"As a matter of fact, it is."

"You could always go back," offered J.D.

Ezra glowered at him. "Mr. Tanner still owes me the interest from that three hundred dollars I loaned him. Besides, my question is a reasonable one."

Buck began rolling his bedding. "Chris and me talked about it while you two were sleeping. We figure the bounty hunter won't be riding as hard as we are. He'd wear himself out, and Vin could jump him;"

"So the bounty hunter travels at a slower pace, and we get to Tascosa before he does," finished Ezra. "But what do we do once we get there?"

"I've got a few ideas," Larabee's voice announced from the shadows, "but I'm leaving without you if you don't get a move on."


	2. Chapter 2

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Three days of hard riding put them into the railroad town of Bonito a full day before the next scheduled train. Ezra nearly fell out of the saddle as they dismounted at the livery stable. He walked around carefully, wincing with every step.

"I don't believe I shall ever be able to walk properly again," he moaned. "All I want now is a hot bath and all the whiskey I can afford."

"Later," said Larabee. "Right now, I want you and J.D. to sell the extra horses, then buy train tickets for four people and horses to as close to Tascosa as you can get"

"What about you and Buck?" asked J.D.

"We're going shopping."

"Shopping?" repeated J.D., but the older men were already on their way across the street He looked at Ezra and asked, "What does Chris have planned?"

"I don't know, my young friend, but I'm certain we're not going to enjoy it." With that, Ezra turned to speak with the wiry old man emerging from the stable.

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Buck tugged uncomfortably at the high, stiff collar of his shirt and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

"Whose idea was this, anyway?" he grumbled.

Slumped in his seat with his new bowler hat tipped over his eyes, Larabee didn't move. "Mine, remember?"

"Well, it wasn't one of your better ones."

J.D. was grinning from ear to ear, enjoying the older man's discomfort. "I think it's a great idea, Buck," he said. "I especially like your new hat." He ran a hand along the edge of his own bowler.

"Don't push your luck, kid," warned Buck, remembering all the teasing he had given the young man. He didn't miss the smile on Larabee's face. "A man'd just about have to get undressed just to get to his gun."

Ezra looked up from the deck of cards he was deftly manipulating. "Most people wearing such finery aren't concerned with how quickly they can produce a gun," he pointed out, slipping the ace of spades from the center of the deck.

"I suppose that's why you carry that sleeve gun?"

Buck's word's didn't affect the gambler. "As I told Mr. Larabee once, I leave nothing to chance."

Larabee pushed back his hat. "You keep arguing, Buck, you're gonna attract attention, and we don't need it."

"I'm not arguing!" Buck said a little too loudly. The half dozen other people in the train car glanced his direction. "I'm not arguing," he repeated with less volume. "I'm just nervous."

Larabee sat up straight and looked out at the passing scenery. "We'll reach Texas in two days. Figure another day to reach Tascosa by horseback."

"We won't have much time before Mr. Tanner and that loathsome bounty hunter arrive," said Ezra. "Five days. Six at the most."

'That's not much time, Chris," Buck pointed out.

"No, it's not. But it's better than nothing."

Larabee settled into the seat again, pulling his hat over his eyes once more.

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Nathan finished rolling his bedding and set it with his gear, then moved back to the small fire. Josiah passed him a plate of beans and a cup of hot coffee. The black gentleman accepted both but couldn't hide a look of distaste as he ate a mouthful of beans.

"It don't seem right," he lamented. "We're eatin' beans while they're havin' antelope steaks."

Josiah smiled. "Fasting is good for the soul, my friend."

"This isn't fasting. It's torture." Nathan glanced toward the rocky knoll blocking their view of the valley. "I dreamt about steak all night because he shot that antelope yesterday."

Josiah only smiled more broadly, showing a mouth full of teeth. Nathan finished his beans and fished more out of the kettle, resigned to eating what he had.

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Tanner pushed back his empty plate and leaned back against a rock with a satisfied sigh. "That was better than another breakfast of beans and biscuits," he said with grudging respect. "What's next?"

Thompson squatted a dozen feet away, honing the knife he'd used to cut the antelope meat on a whetstone. He glanced at his prisoner, then went back to sharpening his knife.

"Information," he said in a low voice..

Tanner snorted. "What d'you wanna know, if you're doing that right?" He plucked a piece of long-stemmed grass and began chewing one end of it. "Seemed to cut that meat well enough."

Thompson pointed the knife at him. "You got a real mouth on you. I should cut your tongue out and give us both some peace and quiet."

Tanner shrugged. "You're welcome to try," he challenged.

The bounty hunter's eyes narrowed dangerously, then he went back to running the blade over the whetstone in slow, deliberate strokes. "We've been traveling for four days-now, and your friends haven't put in an appearance. I would have expected them to try something before we get to Bonito."

"So you want to know where they are."

"Something like that." Thompson sheathed his knife and said, "I know you were working for a circuit judge, doing work as some kind of lawman. That's a strange thing for a wanted man to be doing."

Tanner couldn't suppress a smile. "A man's gotta eat."

"Yeah. But any judge with an ounce of brains would've strung you up, not hired you. You probably never told him -- or your friends -- that you had a price on your head."

"I told 'em. Didn't make any difference to them."

"If you told them, where are they?"

"Maybe they got lost."

"Or maybe you never told them your little secret and they don't know where to find you. I could be taking you just about anywhere." Thompson smiled maliciously. "You'll be dead before they find you. If they ever find you."

"Nice thought."

Thompson put the whetstone in his saddlebag and withdrew a set of handcuffs and a key ring. He tossed the handcuffs to Tanner.

"You know what to do."

"Yeah, I know."

Tanner put on the handcuffs, closing them just ahead of the heavy manacles he wore at night. Meanwhile, Thompson unwound the chain from the boulder he had wrapped it around. Then he went to Tanner and removed the manacles.

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Larabee and Buck stayed a short distance behind the buggy carrying Ezra and J.D. as they rode toward Tascosa. A collection of adobe buildings, intermixed with the occasional wooden or sod structure, were spread out across the flat plain. To the east of town, a number of tents and dilapidated sheds promised a seedier neighborhood.

"Reminds me of Wickes Town," observed Buck, studying the smattering of tents. "I bet we'd find some real pretty ladies there."

"A pity we won't have the opportunity to find out," Ezra called over his shoulder. "But respectable gentlemen such as ourselves would never go anywhere near such a place."

"And that's a real shame," the dark-haired man said mournfully.

They rode on in silence. The dusty road wound past a number of houses and a blacksmith shop and entered a plaza-like area the center of the plaza was a windmill-powered well surrounded by a grassy area. Large cottonwoods stood in front of some of the buildings around the square. The four friends rode toward a two story adobe building bearing a sign that identified it as the Exchange Hotel.

J.D. stopped the buggy at the hotel. Ezra climbed out of the vehicle, then let his gaze sweep the plaza. "A jewel of a facade for a dreary, dismal place," he observed, stepping onto the boardwalk and dusting himself off. "Mr. Landers, Mr. Wilson, see to our belongings while I register us at this... fine establishment."

J.D. quickly left the buggy. He joined Ezra and they went into the hotel. Buck looked at Larabee and said, "I think Ezra's enjoying himself too much."

He and Larabee removed four small suitcases, dusty but new, from the back of the buggy and carried them into the hotel. Fancy oriental carpets and leather couches decorated the lobby, and a crystal chandelier with oil lamps provided lighting. J.D. was standing a few feet behind Ezra as the Southerner was glowering at a neatly dressed man not much older than J.D. who was standing behind a darkly varnished, ornately carved counter.

"--received confirmation of our reservations last week," Ezra was saying. "Surely you could not have lost them already."

The desk clerk blushed and continued his frantic search through a box of papers. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm not finding it. The name was Stanton?"

"Yes." Ezra put plenty of exasperation into the sigh accompanying that word. "Edward Beauregard Stanton the Third. And associate." He turned to J.D. "Be certain to make note of this, Mr. Dunning. The Judge will be most displeased."

"Yes, sir." J.D. produced a notebook and a pencil and quickly jotted down a note.

"Oh, here it is!" The clerk pulled out a conveniently located piece of paper. "Yes, sir. That was... two rooms? One for you and your associate?"

"Plus a room with two beds for the others. Preferably adjoining ours."

"Of course, sir. I have rooms five and seven for you and Mr. Dunning." The clerk turned and pulled two keys from their slots. "But the only room we have for the others is rather small and farther down the hall."

"That will be fine," Ezra said, ignoring the dark look he was certain Buck was giving him.

The clerk took a set of keys from a slot numbered thirteen. "If you will just sign the register..."

Ezra fastidiously pulled off his dark brown gloves and filled out the book, filling several lines with large, elegant letters. "You will, of course, charge this to the judge's account."

The clerk lost his forced smile. "Excuse me?"

Ezra bent a dark look on him. "It was agreed to when the reservations were made," he stated.

"Um... of course. I'm sure that Mr. Jameson has all that information."

"Very well, then." Ezra collected the keys. "Tip the gentleman, Mr. Dunning."

J.D. dug a silver dollar out of his vest pocket and set it on the desk, then followed Ezra upstairs. Buck and Larabee gathered the gear once more and trudged after them.

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Ezra stared with disapproval at the watch he had borrowed from Buck as a thin-faced, balding man unlocked the doors to the two-story brick building that served as the county courthouse.

"Two minutes late." he chastised as the man went back inside. "Most unprofessional."

Larabee held open the door, keeping his attention on the street. Buck walked through the entrance and moved to one side. Ezra and J.D. followed, then Larabee came in and shut the door. The entrance hall was unfurnished and dimly lit by an oil chandelier, Stairs directly opposite the front door led to the second floor. Peeling paint on a door to the left read CLERK AND RECORDER. Ezra opened the door and strode inside, followed by the others.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" asked the man who had unlocked the door.

"I certainly hope so." Ezra flashed a card in front of the clerk, too quickly for it to be read. "My name is Edward Beaurogard Stanton the Third, with the law firm of Brentwood, Williston, and Carmody of New Orleans. This is my associate, James Dunning. We're here regarding the investigation of Judge Thomas Killane."

"Who?"

"Judge Killane? Late of Austin?" A frown creased Ezra's handsome face. "Surely you received the letter from Judge Lee last week."

"Judge Lee?" The clerk began searching through a wicker basket filled with papers. "I don't recognize the name..."

Ezra leaned across the desk. "Judge Gordon Robert Lee?" he emphasized. "Cousin to the Robert E. Lee, hero of the Confederacy?" He began pacing the room. "He's investigating the case against Judge Killane and was hoping he'd get your full cooperation."

"I must have mislaid the letter," the clerk said hastily. "How can I help you?"

His back to the clerk, Ezra gave a knowing smile. J.D. said, "There are several cases we'll need to look into. We'd like to start with the state versus Vin Tanner. I believe the charge was murder."

"That was the biggest trial we've ever had." Rattling a ring of keys, the clerk moved to a locked door behind' his desk. "That was my first assignment as county clerk." He opened the door and paused, looking over his shoulder. "But the judge on the Tanner trial was Tom Hendricks, not this... Killane."

"An acquaintance of Judge Killane's," explained Ezra, stepping past him into the record room. "And, we believe, equally corrupt." He walked around the small table in the middle of the room, noting the ledgers and books lining the shelves and the dim light supplied by a small, barred window high on one wall. "We'll need more light than this," he informed the clerk. "And privacy."

"There's a storeroom across the hall. There're oil lamps in there."

"That's fine. Mr. Landers, give the gentleman a hand getting them."

"Yes, sir," said Larabee.

He moved to the office door and held it open. The clerk left the office, and Larabee closed the door. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, J.D. looked at Ezra and asked, "What now?"

Ezra eyed the books unhappily. "We see what we can find out about what really happened."

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Thompson swung off his horse and flipped his reins over the hitching rail in front of the train station. Tanner didn't wait for an invitation, dismounting and securing his horse as well.

Thompson shot him a warning look. "That's a good way to get yourself shot," he warned.

Tanner cocked his head to one side. "You think I'm gonna try anything here?"

The bounty hunter didn't answer, just removed his saddlebags and gestured for Tanner to proceed him to the ticket window. Tanner stepped onto the boardwalk and moved to the wall beside the window. Thompson moved forward and said, "I need a ticket to Santa Ria, Texas, and a secure place to keep him." He jerked a thumb at his prisoner.

The skinny clerk's eyes widened as he leaned forward to peer at Tanner through the wire spectacles perched on the end of his nose. "He looks dangerous. Shouldn't he be on a leash?"

A sly smile crossed the bounty hunter's face. Tanner straightened, ready to put in a word of defense on his own behalf. Thompson's gaze shifted to him, and he decided it wasn't worth the effort. He leaned against the wall and looked around.

Several feet to his right, a man wearing a brightly colored serape was asleep on a bench, long legs stretched out in front of him. A battered gray hat hid his features. Tanner started to look away, then stopped as the man lifted his head slightly. The pale blue eyes and toothy smile were familiar to Tanner. The man winked and lowered his head again.

"All right, Mr. Tanner, this way," said Thompson.

Tanner pushed off the wall. "Where we goin'?" he asked.

"They've got a place for you in the baggage car, but for now you're going in a store room so I can get some sleep."

Tanner gave a half-smile. "No jail?"

"Seems they never built one here. But this place'll be just as safe until the train gets here tomorrow."

The clerk was holding open the door to the office. Tanner walked in, followed by Thompson. The office was small but tidy, the only furnishings being a roll-top desk and a chair. To his left, a door opened onto a darkened room.

Thompson reached into his saddlebags and withdrew a set of leg irons. "Do me a favor and put these on him," he told the clerk.

The clerk paled and took a nervous step back. "Me?" he squeaked.

Thompson drew his revolver and aimed it at the center of Tanner's chest, saying, "If he tries anything, he won't have to worry about how he's riding to Tascosa. A pine box will do just fine."

The nervous clerk nearly dropped the chains as he took them from Thompson. He knelt in front of Tanner, hands shaking so hard that the chains rattled noisily. He finally managed to get one cuff attached to each leg, hurrying away as soon as he was done.

"Much obliged."

With that, Thompson gave Tanner a shove toward the room. Tanner stumbled into the darkness and the door shut with a solid click. He heard a key turn and heard Thompson's voice but couldn't make out the words. Then it was quiet.

Tanner shuffled forward a few feet until he found a wall. He put his back to it and carefully slid down until he was sitting on the floor. He pulled off his right boot and easily slid the leg iron off, then repeated the process on the other side. The clerk had been too nervous to make sure they were secured properly, but the handcuffs were another matter.

He lay his head back and closed his eyes. The sight of Josiah had given him a feeling of comfort he hadn't known in a long time. And there was safety in numbers, so he'd have at least one other friend on the train.

He'd be in Tascosa before the week was out. Whatever Chris and the others had planned, they'd have to move fast.

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Josiah stayed where he was, hearing the bounty hunter exit the train station and collect the horses. Leading one and riding the other, the man headed down the street toward the livery stable.

Josiah stretched and sat up, uncrossing his long legs. He looked around carefully, then a smile spread across his plain features. He got to his feet and strolled toward the telegraph office. He arrived just as Nathan came out of the office, brandishing a telegraph.

"Well, we got our answer from Judge Travis. He wants to know what we're doing in Bonito, but this'll get us on the train," said the black man.

Josiah smiled enigmatically. "I have a better idea."

Nathan looked up at him. "What do you mean, you got a better idea? Chris is expecting us in Tascosa!"

Josiah began walking away. "Where are you going?"

"The hardware store."

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The clerk looked up up at the tall, somewhat homely man leaning on the window ledge. "Yes, sir, can I help you?"

"Yeah." Josiah drew his revolver and aimed it through the barred window at the clerk's nose. "Unlock the door."

The clerk's eyes crossed as he tried to focus on the revolver. "You... you can't," he stammered. "I don't have any money here!"

Josiah smiled impishly. "I'm not after your money. I want your cargo."

"My cargo?"

"Just open the door," ordered Nathan, standing behind Josiah.

The clerk hurried to obey, mumbling about how improper this whole affair was. Josiah and the black man quickly moved into the office. Nathan shut the door with a sigh.

"We've got to be crazy, trying this," said Nathan, but he gestured toward the locked door. "Get that door open and stand back."

The clerk fumbled with his keys before he managed to get the door unlocked. Josiah moved him aside and Nathan opened the door a few inches.

"Vin?" he called. "Now don't you jump me when I open this door."

He opened the door the rest of the way. Seated opposite the door, his arms propped on his knees, Tanner squinted into the sudden light. He couldn't contain his smile as Nathan came into the room.

"Was wonderin' when you'd show up," he said, accepting a hand up. He held up his chained wrists. "Got something to get rid of these?"

"We've got a hammer and chisel, but they can wait. We've got to get you out of town first."

"Suits me fine."

He walked into the main office. Josiah's wolf-like smile caused the clerk to back up nervously. "Don't hurt me, "he said nervously. "I'm unarmed."

Josiah's smile widened, and he gestured toward the storeroom. "I won't hurt you," he promised. "You'll just have some time to contemplate your sins."

Still protesting, the young man backed into the storeroom. The former priest shut the door behind him and locked it, then turned to Nathan and Tanner.

"That might buy us some time," said Tanner. "Now what?"

"We've got the horses outside," Nathan said. "We'd better put some distance behind us before that bounty hunter gets back."

"What're we waiting for?"

Josiah opened the door and strode outside, casually looking around. The others followed, Tanner still playing the role of prisoner. While Tanner and Nathan moved to the horses, Josiah locked the ticket office door, then tossed the keys through the window. The three men mounted the horses and rode out at an easy pace, trying not to attract attention.

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The sun had nearly set when Thompson, having bathed and changed into clean clothes, decided to check on his prisoner before getting much-needed sleep. Few people were on the street, and no one paid him much attention. He walked up the steps to the train platform.

The ticket window was dark. Thompson looked around for a sign indicating when it would open again, then froze as he heard muffled shouting and thumping noises from inside the office. He drew his revolver and tried the door.

The knob didn't turn. Thompson rattled the door, then stepped back and smashed his foot into it just below the knob. The doorframe splintered and the door swung open. The storeroom door was secured, the keys on the floor near the center of the room. The bounty hunter turned the key and pulled the door open.

The skinny clerk stumbled out. "Thank God! I didn't think anyone would find me!" he gushed.

Thompson looked around. "Where is he?" he demanded. "Where's Tanner?"

"He's gone. Two vicious men broke in and took him away! I was lucky they didn't kill me!"

Thompson laughed cynically. "I guess I underestimated your friends, Mr. Tanner," he said. "And it won't happen again." Without another word to the clerk, he strode out of the office.

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Ezra made the final adjustments to his string tie as he strode into the dining room. Larabee and J.D. were seated at a table near the front windows, sipping coffee while waiting for their companions.

"Good morning, gentlemen," greeted the gambler, seating himself at the table. He looked up at the matronly woman approaching them. "Just coffee for now, please, Mrs. Goldman." She nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. "Where's Mr. Wilson this morning?"

"Taking a walk around town," said J.D.

Mrs. Goldman returned with a cup for Ezra and a pot. She filled his cup, then topped off the others. Ezra stirred a generous helping of sugar, carefully sampled the hot liquid, and added more.

"So what do we do now?" asked J.D. "We've been here almost a week and we haven't found a thing."

"Perhaps we need to talk to the widow of the murdered man," Ezra suggested. "She may know something."

"That's the least of our problems," Larabee said quietly, idly tracing circles on the tablecloth with his finger.

J.D. and Ezra looked at him. "Vin and the others should have been here two days ago."

"Maybe they've been delayed," J.D. suggested.

The door opened and Buck walked in, carrying a newspaper under his arm. He saw them and moved to the able. He slumped into a chair, a smug expression on his face.

"I know why they haven't arrived," he declared. The others just looked at him. "Take a look at this." He held p the newspaper so the others could read the headlines.

"'Vin Tanner escapes,'" read J.D., amazement in his voice as he snatched the paper from Buck's hands. "'Tascosa's notorious killer escaped from custody in Bonito two days ago with the aid of two unknown accomplices. The killer was stolen away while waiting transportation back to Tascosa.'"

"And his whereabouts are unknown," finished Buck.

Larabee looked at his long-time friend, smiling himself. "I know where he is."

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"--so Ezra says to this guy, 'Judge Gordon Robert Lee? Cousin to the Robert E. Lee?'" laughed J.D. Josiah, Nathan, Buck, and Tanner stared at the young man, then looked at the gambler. "The subtle humor of the situation was lost on the poor clerk," explained Ezra.

"I'm sure it was," agreed Tanner.

J.D. looked at them. "Come on, guys, that was funny!" he exclaimed.

"It ain't funny, J.D.," said Buck.

"It wasn't meant to be." Ezra shuffled the cards and began dealing. "I only regret that you and Mr. Jackson did not take the time to notify us of your change in plans," he told Josiah. "We could have left that dreary town much earlier."

Josiah smiled. "We were a little busy," said Nathan. "We didn't know if that bounty hunter was going to be coming after us."

"It's good to be back." Tanner stretched out his legs and regarded his cards. "I see you're still cheating too," he added, tossing his cards back on the table. Ezra's response was a cold stare.

Larabee walked into the saloon, glancing around the comfortably familiar surroundings. He walked up the steps, to the raised floor area where, the six were playing cards and sat down, holding up apiece of paper.

"Just heard from the judge," he said.

"And?" asked Buck.

"He's glad to have us back. And he doesn't want to know what we were doing in Bonito. Or Texas."

"Well, that's a relief," said Ezra.

"What about that bounty hunter?" asked J.D.

"I don't think we've seen the last of him," said Tanner, taking a drink from the shot glass in front of him. Larabee took an envelope out of his duster pocket and handed it to him. "Mary gave this to me. It came care of her."

Tanner sat up straight and took the envelope. The writing on it was unfamiliar to him. He slid a finger under the flap to open it and pulled out a sheet of paper. He unfolded it, then tossed it on the table.

The wanted poster bore Tanner's familiar face. In one corner were the following words: "You got away this time. But keep looking over your shoulder. I won't give up. E.J. Thomas."

THE END

To be continued in "IT WAS A GOOD RIDE"


End file.
